Later Valessa was to discover that it had many gadgets and innovations aboard that no other English yacht could boast.
It had survived the elements in the Bay of Biscay without anything being broken.
They were fortunate in that they had the right wind to carry them through it at an almost unprecedented speed.
When finally the sea was calmer and the sun much warmer, Bowers came in to say,
“How’s about gettin’ up today? It be as warm as spring and I’m waitin’ for your Ladyship to see the rest of the cabins.”
“I-I think I am – too lazy to get up,” Valessa replied.
What she meant was that she was too frightened.
Every day that passed without seeing the Marquis made her dread the fact that she ever had to do so.
The idea of him seemed to grow in her until he overshadowed her like a huge monster or the ogre in the Fairytales that she had read as a child.
She had thought then that the ogre was a giant, while the little boy or girl that she identified with herself were tiny creatures about the size of his finger.
“Now come along, my Lady,” Bowers was saying, “you mustn’t lose the use of your legs.”
“If I do, I will have to be pushed around the deck in a wheelchair!” Valessa replied without thinking.
Then she remembered the Marquis being pushed by Lord Cyril in a wheelchair in the Chapel.
“What I was goin’ to suggest,” Bowers was saying, “is that I run your Ladyship a bath. It’ll be a cold one, but the sea water’s ever so good for the skin.”
He did not wait for her response.
He had obviously given orders that some cans of water were to be brought to the cabin for Valessa heard him taking one from a Steward.
Then Bowers poured it into the strange-looking bath.
She thought it must be like the Chinese ones that her father had described to her as being very deep but short. The person taking a bath sat on a seat so that the water came nearly up to his neck.
When she went into her little bathroom, she found that the water was not high enough for that, but it was exhilarating to lower herself down into the deep bath.
She did not mind the water being cold, having always had cold baths at home.
When she got out, she felt invigorated and more alive than she had felt for a long time.
Bowers had laid out her clothes on the bed and chosen for her a pretty gown that she had not seen before.
It was made of a woollen material and had a wrap rather like the one she had been wearing. It was made of the same stuff and had a long fringe.
She thought that the gown must have been very expensive and she felt not so much resentful at wearing Lady Sarah’s clothes as embarrassed.
She wondered what she should do if the Marquis told her to throw them overboard.
Then she knew that once again she was letting her imagination run away with her and he would certainly not suggest anything so stupid.
When finally she was dressed, her eyes were dark and wide with fear. They seemed to fill the whole of her face.
She looked at herself in the mirror and decided that she no longer had the ashen pallor that she had seen before.
Her skin actually had a translucent whiteness about it and there was also a touch of colour in her cheeks.
She took a deep breath.
‘Now,’ she told herself, ‘I have to face the ogre!’
She went from her cabin, putting out her hands to steady herself on each side of the passage.
Then she climbed up the companionway.
At the top of it she saw Bowers waiting to open the door of the Saloon.
That was where the ogre would be waiting to gobble her up!
Chapter Six
The Marquis was overwhelming.
He was standing at the end of the Saloon as Valessa entered and she thought that he was even larger and more menacing than she had expected.
She stood looking at him, holding onto the frame of the door for support.
It seemed to her as if he grew larger and larger until he became the ogre.
“Come and sit down!” he said sharply.
She could no longer look at him as she moved across the Saloon to sit down on a chair opposite him.
He crossed his legs and sat back in the chair and she thought that he looked like a Judge who was about to pass sentence on her for being a criminal.
As she waited, she was aware that her heart was beating tempestuously and her hands were trembling.
“Well, let’s get it over!” he said. “How much do you want?”
Valessa looked at him in surprise.
“I-I don’t – understand!” she stammered as he was obviously waiting for a reply.
“Of course you do!” he said contemptuously. “This is blackmail and I presume that there is nothing I can do but pay you.”
The way he spoke was unbearably insulting.
Valessa felt a pride that she did not know she possessed rise within her breast and in a voice that was a little stronger and not so faltering she answered,
“If you think – I am asking – you for money you are – mistaken!”
“You are asking me for money,” he insisted, “unless you think I shall accept you as my wife, which I have no intention of doing!”
Valessa dropped her eyes and was silent.
After a moment he said,
“How could you have done anything so appalling and so revolting, as to trick me into a Marriage Service?”
“I-I did not know – I had no idea,” Valessa faltered, “that it was anything more than a – charade, which Sir Harold – told me was – arranged to – amuse Lady Barton’s guests.”
“You expect me to believe that?” the Marquis asked.
Now he was sneering and Valessa thought that no man could be more unpleasant.
“I expected to hear a tissue of lies from you,” he went on, “but you can hardly imagine that I will believe them! So let me repeat – how much do you want?”
“As I – told you, I want – nothing,” Valessa said. “I was – going to ask you – but you would not listen – if you would – take me to my home.”
“Where is that?” the Marquis asked. “In the slums of Lambeth or the filth of St. Giles’s?”
Now the way he spoke left Valessa speechless.
She had heard her father talk of the appalling conditions in both places and how they were a breeding ground for pickpockets, thieves and murderers.
“If you will – listen to me,” she said after a long silence, “I-I will try to – explain – ”
“I don’t want your explanations!” the Marquis snapped. “What I want to hear is what you craftily planned with Lady Barton to humiliate me.”
“No – no – that is not – true!” Valessa cried.
As if the Marquis could not control himself, he suddenly rose to his feet.
“Stop lying, damn you!” he shouted. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. You want money? Very well, I will pay anything to be rid of you!”
The way he roared at her and the expression of hatred in his eyes made Valessa give a cry.
It was like the sound of a small animal caught in a trap.
As if she could bear it no longer, she rose from her chair and ran across the Saloon.
Then, as she went through the door, she saw to the right of her that there was another door leading out onto the deck.
She was completely distraught and the Marquis had petrified her to the point where she could no longer think clearly.
She felt despairingly that there was only one way to escape him.
She pulled open the outer door.
Because they were moving so fast and the sea was comparatively calm, the yacht was fairly steady.
The railings were just ahead of her and Valessa ran to them.
She held onto the top rail and then realised that her skirt was too tight for her to throw herself over it into the sea.
She therefore started to climb up the first and then the second bar.
She heard a voice shouting from behind her and thought that it was the Marquis.
She bent forward to throw herself head first into the waves.
As she did so, the sails swung over and the yacht heeled over onto the other tack.
It threw Valessa backwards and, as it did so, somebody caught hold of her and pulled her down onto the deck.
“What are you doing, you little fool!” the Marquis asked furiously.
It was then, because his grip hurt her, that she lost control of herself and was aware only of her fear as she broke down.
“Let me – die!” she sobbed. “I want to – die!”
The Marquis did not reply, he merely picked her up in his arms and carried her back into the Saloon.
She was crying so helplessly that she was hardly aware of what he was doing.
He set her down on the chair that she had just vacated.
She only knew that the whole world seemed dark and terrifying and she cried convulsively with her hands over her face.
The Marquis stood looking at her for a moment and then he went to the cupboard in the corner of the Saloon and opened it.
There was a row of bottles, all held in place so that they could not be upset by the roughness of the sea.
He poured a little brandy into a small glass and then, closing the door of the cupboard, took it back to her.
“Drink this!” he commanded.
Valessa did not answer, she merely shook her head, her hands still over her face.
As the yacht was now rolling a little, the Marquis sat down beside her.
“How could you think of doing anything so foolish,” he asked, “as to try to drown yourself?”
“I – want to – die!”
As an afterthought and, as he did not speak, she added,
“You will – then be – free of me.”
The Marquis looked at her in surprise.
Then he said,
“You are thinking of me?”
“H-how – could I have – guessed that they would – plan anything so wicked?” Valessa sobbed.
Her tears seemed to come ever faster as she stammered,
“I was just going to – kill myself anyhow – when they came – to the house, but they – stopped me.”
“Why were you going to kill yourself?” the Marquis asked.
He was speaking quietly and calmly, but Valessa could not control her tears.
After a moment he said,
“Stop crying and then perhaps you can tell me exactly what happened.”
“You – had better – let me die!” Valessa whispered.
“If you had drowned yourself as you were trying to do,” the Marquis said, “I should most certainly have been charged with your murder!”
Valessa was suddenly still.
What she had heard him say seemed to stop her tears, as if she had had a sudden shock.
She took her hands from her eyes.
“Did – did you say you would be – charged with murder?” she asked hesitatingly.
“I am quite certain Lady Barton and, of course, Grantham, would convince their friends, if not a Jury, that I had conveniently disposed of you!”
Valessa stared at him.
“I-I am – sorry,” she faltered.
Looking at her almost for the first time, the Marquis thought that he had never seen anyone look so pathetic.
There were tears on her cheeks and her eyelashes were wet.
When she stood at the railings, the spray from the waves had splashed over her hair and the front of her gown.
He saw that her lips were trembling and, because she was looking at him questioningly, he said,
“I am sure that you are intelligent enough to realise that the two people I have just mentioned are my implacable enemies.”
“But I have no – wish to – hurt you,” Valessa faltered. “I just thought – if I died, then you – would be glad.”
“As I have already told you, I would be labelled a murderer for the rest of my life, even if I was not charged with the crime.”
“I-I never – thought of that.”
She spoke in a helpless way and she was suddenly aware of her tear-stained cheeks and fumbled for her handkerchief.
The Marquis then took a white linen one from his pocket and handed it to her.
It smelt of Eau de Cologne and made her think of her father and she wanted to cry again.
She wiped her eyes and then blew her small nose as a child might have done.
The Marquis held out the glass of brandy.
“Take just a few sips,” he suggested, “and you will feel better.”
Because she was still too afraid to argue with him, she did as he told her.
Then he took the glass in which there was still quite a lot of brandy and put it down on a table that was battened to the floor.
He sat down again and after a moment said,
“Suppose we forget what I said to you just now and start from the beginning?”
“I am – frightened!”
“Of me?”
“Y-yes – I knew – you would be very – very angry – and gobble me – up!”
She spoke without thinking and there was just a touch of amusement in his voice as the Marquis said,
“So you think I am an ogre!”
Valessa nodded and again wiped her eyes.
She felt a little better after the brandy and was still ashamed of the way she had broken down.
She was quite certain that her father would have disapproved and she knew that men hated a scene.
She clasped her hands together and, in a small voice that was like a child’s, she asked,
“If I tell – you exactly – what occurred – will you believe me?”
“I will try to,” the Marquis said, “and I shall know if you are not telling the truth.”
“I always – tell the truth,” Valessa said with unexpected dignity. “Papa and Mama – hated liars.”
“Your parents are alive?”
“N-no – they are – both dead.”
It would have been impossible for anyone not to recognise the agony and despair in her voice.
“I am sorry, but surely you don’t live alone?” the Marquis asked.
“I have – no money,” Valessa replied, “and when Papa was – killed his – creditors came and took away all – the furniture there was – in the house!”
The Marquis stared at her as if he found it hard to believe what she was saying.
“Because I was so hungry, I knew that the – only thing I could – do was to – drown myself in the river.”
There was silence and then, as she glanced at the Marquis, she saw that he was looking at her gown.
She knew he was thinking that she could not be telling him the truth when she was dressed as she was now.
He would also have noted the smart coat she had worn when he was driving them to London.
“What I am – wearing now,” she explained, “belonged to – Lady Barton. She gave me – the clothes to – wear at The Towers, as well as – some money.”
She thought as she spoke that the Marquis would denounce her once again as being a charlatan.
Instead he said quietly,
“You have not yet told me how you met Lady Barton.”
“She – she came to my house just – when I was – about to walk to the – river,” Valessa said. “That is if I – could manage to get there.”
“Why did she come to your house?”
“She had a fall out – hunting and hurt her arm. The gentlemen with her – asked for – bandages.”
“Now I understand,” the Marquis said. “And you had not met her before?”
“No, but because my home is only – about five miles from – The Towers, I had – of course – heard of her.”
As she spoke, Valessa hoped that the Marquis would believe that she had not co
me from Lambeth or St. Giles.
He was thinking over what she had just told him and he said,
“You bandaged Lady Barton’s arm. Then what happened?”
“I know – now,” Valessa said in a frightened tone, “that I should have – guessed what would – happen when I overheard her saying that – you had told her – she was not – ‘good enough’ for you.”
The Marquis’s lips tightened.
Then he asked, still in that quiet voice,
“What else did she say?”
“After Lord Cyril – had imitated you – ”
Valessa gave a sudden cry.
“Of course! It was very – stupid of me not to – realise it before, but it was – he who made – your responses in the Chapel! He spoke – exactly like you.”
“I guessed that was what must have happened,” the Marquis said dryly. “I remember how skilfully he imitated everybody when we were at school together.”
“It was very – very stupid of me – I see it now,” Valessa said, “but I was feeling – so ill – and my brain did not seem to be – working.”
“I suppose that is understandable,” the Marquis said.
She thought that he spoke reluctantly.
“I thought that – they would leave,” she went on hastily, “but instead Sir Harold – came into the kitchen and said that – Lady Barton would – give me two hundred pounds if I would – take part in a charade to – amuse her guests.”
She looked at the Marquis pleadingly.
“I swear to – you,” she said, “on everything I – hold sacred, that I did not – know what they were – going to do – until the very last moment.”
She thought that the Marquis was looking grim and with a little sob she added,
“I-I can see now – why what they – planned could not take place the – first night at The Towers, because they were – waiting for the Special Licence!”
She spoke the last words a little incoherently and in such a low voice that she thought the Marquis had not heard her.
She could remember all too clearly that ghastly moment when she had come back to consciousness and found herself on the bed beside the Marquis.
She shivered in horror at the memory of Lady Barton and her friends jeering at them.
She could see Sarah Barton laughing and holding up the Marriage Certificate and the ugly spiteful expression on her face that seemed to contort it.
Revenge Is Sweet Page 10
